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“Turns out it’s not the kind of art we were thinking about,” Urie tells me.
“Get to the point, Urie. I’m having a terrible day, and I’d hate to end a twenty-five-year-old friendship because I’ve lost my patience with you,” I threaten, although I know my threats are water off a duck’s back with Urie. He is the only person I’d trust in this world to have my back. Especially since my older brother was murdered last year. “What kind of art is it?”
“Human art,” Urie tells me, and I go cold.
“Painted ladies?” I splutter, feeling the instant fury spark like a bushfire inside of me. “Who the hell would dare to try to smuggle people on one of our ships?”
“My father and I were just wondering the same thing,” Urie’s voice lowered. “He’s called your father down here.”
“Fuck!” I look up as Helen places my drink in front of me. I nod my thanks. “This is all I need.” I knock the vodka back in one shot and indicate to Helen I’d like another drink. “You need to make sure the rest of the Velvet Voyager’s paperwork is all in order, then get the FBI involved.”
“It’s already done,” Urie assures me. “They’re on the way. We already have all the files ready for them. We know the procedure.”
“Let me finish up here, and I’ll get down there,” I say.
My blood is boiling as Helen puts another double vodka in front of me. She leans both hands on the bar in front, knowing how her tits are now pressed together, making the mounds peek just a little more over the top of her shirt.
“Is everything okay?” Helen asks, frowning.
“All’s good, thanks, Helen.” I watch her nod and walk off, admiring the way her ass sits firm and the denim strains over it.
“Hello?” Urie’s voice comes through the phone, snapping my attention back to our conversation. “Was that Helen I heard?” A pause. “Please don’t tell me you’re thinking of trying her out for a wild dick ride tonight?”
“No, of course not,” I assure him. “Helen just poured me Russo-Baltique, and I was admiring the fine liquid.”
“Of course, you were.” Urie doesn’t sound convinced. “You’re up to your eyeballs in women and the best vodka in the world while I’m down at the dock trying to help a container load of drugged and painted women while hoping the Feds don’t arrest us.”
“I told you I just need to take care of a problematic Dark Velvet Lounge member, and I’ll get there,” I tell Urie, taking another sip of vodka. This time, I savor the taste, enjoying the smooth burn of the alcohol as it tickles the back of my throat.
“My father said you must on not account come down here. Your father is on his way,” Urie advises me. “Neither of them has a good feeling about this.”
Sergei is Urie’s father—my father’s most trusted comrade and brigadier. His advice is usually always sound, and like my father has said many times, Sergei’s instincts have saved him more than once in their lifetime.
“Your mother is not going to be fucking pleased. Thank God she’s in New York!” Urie gives a low whistle. “When your father tracks down the real owners of this container, I think your father should put your mother onto the culprit who’s is behind this skin trafficking ring.”
Velvet Trucking and Shipping Lines is owned and run by my mother. It’s her family’s business that her late father left to her, and it’s how my parents met.
My mother turns a blind eye to most of the cargo that is transported on her ships or trucks for my father’s side of the business, as well as some of his associates. But, there’s cargo that my mother will not abide by and even my father will not deal in.
Red-hot anger spurts through me once again at the thought of someone trying to fuck with my mother’s business. But Urie is right; my mother would not be kind if she were the one to find out who the trafficker was.
This is the sixth container found in the last six weeks loaded with drugged women painted to resemble various works of art, statues, and expensive jewels. These containers have been showing up at various crime families’ ports or trucking depots, ready to be transported to their destinations.
The last one appeared at one of the McDuling Irish Mob’s ports, and within minutes of its arrival, the Feds arrived sporting warrants after getting a sound tip-off of what the cargo in the container was. Each container’s cargo was made to mimic items previously stolen or taken by the crime families the containers were linked to.
Someone was clearly trying to take down the crime families one shipping container at a time.
“No, my mother is going to be spitting fucking mad.” I stand and push the stool back. I see one of my men flag me down and give a thumbs up, letting me know that the problematic customer has been dealt with. “Oslo is calling me. I need to go. Call me with updates.”
Chapter 4
ANDREY
I hang up, and Helen refills my glass again. I take one more admiring glance at her beautiful ivory orbs as I start to back away from the bar.
I turn, intent on retreating to my office to access the computer network, but a sudden movement catches my eye. It’s too late to adjust my path, and I collide with a woman passing by. The impact sends my phone flying from my grasp, and in a desperate attempt to catch it, my drink cascades onto her.
She stumbles backward with a gasp, crashing into a waitress carrying a tray of vibrant cocktails. As I manage to snatch my phone from the air, I stand rooted to the spot, watching in a mix of horror and fascination as the drinks drench the woman in a kaleidoscope of liquid colors, the glasses clattering to the ground around her.
